


Blinking In The Starlight

by psalmoflife



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, get-together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psalmoflife/pseuds/psalmoflife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has always had an eye for pretty things, and Darcy? Darcy might be the prettiest thing Natasha has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinking In The Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something for Femslash February, and didn't really have time for something too plot intensive, so I went with more of a character study. And apparently Clint and Natasha didn't want to be separated, so you get some bonus Clint/Phil. 
> 
> Rated for some language and mildly sexual content, though no actual smut.

Natasha has always had an eye for pretty things. 

Officially her childhood was incredibly dry, every moment of every day devoted to her training as an assassin. But Natasha’s particular specialty has always been her chameleon-like ability to transform into other people, and she was prized by the Red Room for her ability to infiltrate the elite circles of Russian society- the oil barons and weapons dealers, the KGB officers made rich on property stolen from those sent to the gulags. 

Natasha could emulate pretty because she loves pretty. 

She can, of course, ignore the attraction when necessary. She’s not like Clint, forever losing track of the forest for the shiny things in the trees (or, more recently, the pinstripes on Coulson's suits). Natasha gets shit done. 

The strange thing about being an Avenger is that she doesn't _need_ to ignore the attraction. 

The Avengers don’t work nearly as much as SHIELD agents. Natasha is used to working almost every day, either embedded on a mission or helping to train new agents in her capacity as an infiltration specialist. She’s used to spending day after day in her cat suit, her only concessions to vanity her nail polish or lipstick, occasionally a flower pinned in her hair. She’s used to getting dressed up for missions in costumes planned by R&D and the coordinator for the op, every piece chosen to conceal a weapon or a GPS dot. 

As an Avenger, Natasha spends most of her days hiding out from the press. She can usually manage this by simply hiding her flame-red hair, but she’s discovered that if she puts on something traditionally feminine- a flowy skirt with heels, a sundress, pastel colors- the paparazzi outside the Tower tends to write her off as one of the legions of personal assistants employed by Stark Industries. 

Natasha likes that she can be pretty.

\---

Natasha _really_ likes that Darcy can be pretty. 

She first heard about the girl from Clint, who had rhapsodized at length about the girl having the balls to taze Thor, and “Jesus, Nat, her _tits_ , those things could turn me straight!” 

She’d laughed it off, told Clint not to let Coulson overhear their conversation, and then suffered through his smug look when her mouth went dry at the site of Darcy stepping off the elevator with Jane Foster. 

Natasha has no fucking clue what Darcy is doing working with SHIELD, but she really doesn't care. Sometimes she thinks that Darcy just up-and-decided that Coulson owed her a job in return for her iPod and no one wanted to fight with her. Natasha _should_ know what Darcy is doing working with SHIELD, since Natasha has been making more and more excuses to stop by her desk, but Natasha spends more time watching Darcy’s lips move than listening to the words that come out of them.

\---

It takes Natasha an embarrassingly long time to realize that Darcy is flirting with her. 

Natasha’s sexuality has always been fluid. Having been trained to seduce all ages, genders, and preferences, she thinks that maybe her ability to discern what she wants was trained out of her. (Coulson thinks that maybe the wide exposure just made her open minded, but he’d been thoroughly wrapped around Clint when he said that, and she thinks that he was more explaining his discovery of his bisexuality in his forties.)

Darcy’s sexuality is evidently fluid, too. Natasha has seen her drooling over Clint’s arms, has heard the rumors about her tango adventures with Adam-From-Maintenance, and is therefore surprised as hell when Darcy sidles up to her on an evening out, sliding her thigh between Natasha’s legs and pressing their chests together. 

Natasha lets herself enjoy the dance, already writing it off as Darcy trying to escape the handsy dude-bros that populate this establishment, but Darcy doesn't pull away, stays pressed into Natasha’s side as they go to the bar for another round of drinks, slides her hand over Natasha’s thigh in the cab. 

They make it up to the common areas near the living quarters, and Natasha opens her mouth to say goodnight, but Darcy beats her to the punch. 

“Am I reading this wrong?” she asks. “’Cause, you know, I totally thought you’d been flirting with me, and I’m _so_ interested, but,” she shrugs, “if I misinterpreted something, can you just tell me?” 

Natasha raises her hand, trails her fingers over Darcy’s jaw to give herself time to think. “You’re not reading this wrong,” she finally says.

When Darcy smiles, Natasha realizes that she’s seeing her true smile- not joking or sassy or coy, just happy- for the first time.

\---

Much to Clint’s chagrin, they don’t immediately fall into bed together. 

“Most people don’t fuck their way through the introductory phase, Barton,” Natasha snaps. Phil, pretending not to listen to their conversation, turns red. 

“I’m just saying, the tension is killing me,” Clint says, unruffled by Natasha’s annoyance or Phil’s flush. “And since I've actually talked to Darcy about sex, which I’m pretty sure you haven’t, I just want to draw attention to all the sex you could be having. But aren't. Because you’re like, being a lady, or something.” 

Phil is sitting on his hands. Natasha isn’t sure if it’s to keep himself from planting his palm in his forehead or planting his palm over Clint’s mouth. 

“I’ll thank you to stay out of my personal life, please,” she says, pleasantly as Natalie Rushman dealing with the press. “Some of us manage to start dating someone without knowing them for ten years first.”

\---

The sex, when they do have it, is fantastic. 

Darcy is nothing but curves, smooth slopes of skin that Natasha explores with her tongue. She is delightfully unrestrained, vocal in pleasure and enthusiastic in exploring Natasha’s body in return. 

The look on Darcy’s face when she comes, the way her back arches up, the fisting of her hands in the sheets, is absolutely gorgeous.

\---

Natasha is of the opinion that Darcy is always pretty, even when she isn't trying. 

Darcy is lovely in sleep, the emotions of her dreams playing out on her face as the tangled mass of her hair spreads out over Natasha’s pillows.

Darcy is beautiful when she lights up with passion, no matter the cause. When her eyes light up when she debates movies with Steve or politics with Tony, when she is the one to pull Jane’s wedding dress off the rack, when she holds her nephew for the first time, the unbridled joy in her eyes outshines everything else in the room. 

But Darcy is especially lovely when she tells Natasha she loves her. When Natasha whispers her past into the curve of Darcy’s shoulder, when the tabloids track down the old medical records of Natasha’s miscarriage, when a former husband she’d long thought dead resurfaces, Darcy’s love is a constant for Natasha, a thread of light that anchors her to the present. 

Natasha manipulates emotions for a living. Natasha believes that love is for children.

When Darcy says “I love you,” Natasha believes her. 

\---

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Clint says. He’s holding his beer stein a little tighter than is strictly necessary. 

“About what?” Natasha keeps her voice even, doesn't let her hand shake as she sips her Manhattan.

Clint knows her too well, though. “Don’t tell me you’re happy about this,” he scoffs, gesturing towards the corner where Darcy is huddled with Coulson. 

“We don’t even know what they’re talking about.”

“Like it matters! Do not even tell me that you don’t recognize the plotting faces. They’re probably about to stage an uprising.” 

“The music isn't _that_ bad,” Natasha says mildly. 

She has an inkling that the conversation in the corner might be linked to the ring box Coulson has been carrying in his pocket for the last three weeks, and feels no shame in enjoying both Clint’s panic and the eventual joy from the proposal. Clint is a moron, but he is also her partner, and she wants him to be happy. 

Natasha is a little sad that Coulson has kept Darcy away from her for most of the night, but chooses to enjoy watching Darcy from a distance. She’s never going to be like Clint, will always prefer seeing Darcy up close, but there is something kind of nice about being far enough away to see all of Darcy’s movements, the way that her entire body shakes with laughter. 

Darcy looks across the room, catches Natasha’s eye and smiles.

She’s the prettiest thing Natasha has ever seen.


End file.
